Glenn Kubish

"I'm gonna stop for some groceries," Shelagh said. "See you at home." We were leaving, she in her little car, me on my bike, after having coffee at Iconoclast by the graveyard this morning. I got home first. To a locked house. Unless I have to, I don't carry keys anymore. I still can lose keys if I don't actually have them on me, I have proven that. But it is more difficult. I took my phone out of my pocket to text Shelagh and get her ETA. Dead phone. Locked out of house and phone, what do I do? For whatever random reason, my first thought was to pedal to Meadowlark Mall and go to Tokyo Express for a double chicken rice bowl, with skin. Why this came to mind I have no idea. Then I saw the orange plastic ball by the stump of weeping birch in the middle of the back lawn. I keep the ball there on purpose. It's a reminder of boyhood. We used those iconic balls to play road hockey and indoor ball hockey and we also used them to play baseba...

(Editor's note: My friend Robin Stevenson is a Cubs fan. Not a bandwagon jumper, not a celebrity-watcher, but a fan who has from afar carried her share of the grief of more than a century—that now has vanished. Robin guest blogged at the beginning of the season and again at the All-Star break. I think she  deserves  some of the credit for the historic win. Here is her final post.)  W It has happened. Finally. The Chicago Cubs are World Series champions. They did it. We did it. Grandfather Cecil Stevenson: the Cubs won in dramatic, epic style! My first reaction was relief. That final out in the 10th inning meant no more bad things could happen. Then it set in. What just happened was the best thing ever. My heart was pounding. I might have been in shock. We busted some ghosts. I have been cheering for the Cubs for most of my life. There have been some pretty bleak seasons in the 108 years the team has wandered in the baseball wilderness. You don't ...

My friend Robin Stevenson is one of the bright, believing band. She is a Chicago Cubs fan. And this is a precious time of year for her. It is the day before Opening Day, and that means the Cubs have yet to open new ways to excite and entertain and, then, ultimately, disappoint her in some newly devised, hardly imaginable way to disappoint her! A couple of weeks ago at work a few of us had to tell short stories about ourselves. Robin spoke openly about her affection for Wrigley's boys of summer. And the beautiful game of baseball. I enjoyed her words. Here they are.  This is why I love baseball. I have loved baseball since I was around ten years old. I love it because you can understand the basics of the game fairly easily. You can see how powerful a home run is by the crack of the bat and how far the ball travels. You can see how graceful and athletic a diving catch is. It is dramatic even in its simplest form. But here’s the thing: I have learned something new about the ga...